


Eye Witness Evidence

by merlins_sister



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Romance, observation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 22:27:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3827269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merlins_sister/pseuds/merlins_sister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes I see myself fine, sometimes I need a witness.<br/>And I like the whole truth, but there are nights I only need forgiveness.<br/>- Dar Williams</p>
<p>There are witnesses to the changing relationship between Humphrey and Florence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Commissioner Selwyn Patterson

“Commissioner, we don’t see you down here very often.”

Selwyn Patterson turned from the objects of his observation at Catherine’s voice.

“Just came down to check something,” he explained simply, his gaze returning to the two officers causing him concern.

“Ahh,” Catherine responded, understanding in her voice.

Selwyn sighed, the conflict obvious in his tone. “I hadn’t noticed any issues until earlier today but all of a sudden…” His voice trailed off, knowing that Catherine both understood the issue and also why he would be conflicted about his observation. 

“Yes,” Catherine replied.

He returned to watching his DI and DS as they leant in close to each other across the table. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed something before.

Selwyn sighed again. “Are they aware do you think?”

Catherine was quiet for a moment as she considered her answer. “Humphrey…no. He is too relaxed around her and I don’t think he wouldt believe that a woman like Florence would be interested in him romantically.” She paused again before continuing, “Florence…I am not so sure. She plays her emotional cards very close to her chest.” He felt rather than heard her shift in her consideration. “Strangely I think she too would not believe he would be interested in her, even if she knows her feelings have changed.”

Selwyn sighed again. He liked them both, as people, and as excellent officers. He didn’t know if he could let them be both if what he and Catherine suspected came to pass.  
He turned to speak to Catherine again but paused as an indignant cry went up from Florence, the chess set over which she had been leaning close to Humphrey pushed away. Humphrey for his part was trying to look sympathetic and not smugly victorious. He wasn’t succeeding.

“Chess?” Selwyn asked.

“Yes,” Catherine replied. “You would think that would give Humphrey a clue, that she would want to learn from him. But she made a deal to teach him sailing in return so…”

Selwyn nodded in understanding.

“You will make it all right, when the time comes,” Catherine stated calmly.

Selwyn rolled his eyes at her expectation.

“They deserve to be happy,” Catherine continued. “They would be happy together I think.”

Selwyn didn’t disagree with her, but felt she didn’t truly understand the regulations, or his power to affect the situation. Still, if they were some way off forcing his hand maybe he would have a chance to work out a plan. Here of all places surely he could develop a more relaxed approach to office romances.

Florence was still leaning back in her seat, arms crossed, obviously frustrated at another defeat. She tried to glare at Humphrey but whatever he said made her laugh, her face lighting up, and suddenly their body language was curled around each other again before Humphrey stood up, gathering the empty beer bottles on the table and heading straight towards them.

Selwyn didn’t have the energy to explain his presence so before Humphrey could greet him he turned to move off, not before saying quietly to Catherine, “You will keep me updated?”

“Of course,” Catherine replied, moving to intercept the Detective Inspector.

He glanced back, taking in the slight confusion on Humphrey’s face, as Selwyn continued to walk away.

“Did the Commissioner want something?” he heard Humphrey ask.

“Just checking something with me,” Catherine replied simply. “More beers?”

Selwyn knew Humphrey’s detective mind would be wondering what was going on, but he seemed to accept Catherine’s response, moving with her into the bar. Selwyn only wished he could do the same. 

He could do with a drink too.


	2. Catherine

Catherine nodded to some of her regulars as she made her way to check on the outside tables. The area was busy, mostly tourists, with the exception of one table in the corner. Humphrey sat, his drink untouched, and his head resting on his hand as he gazed out to sea. The sad melancholy that had enveloped Humphrey a few times since his arrival on the island hung heavy around him again, and Catherine felt her heart contract. 

She wandered over to his table, nodding at the other customers in order to keep her progress natural, though she didn’t think he would notice her arrival.

“No Florence tonight?”

Her question made Humphrey start and glance up in surprise at her. Composing himself he gave her that polite, sad smile he had before answering, “No, she has stuff to do.”

“What sort of stuff?” Catherine asked.

“Umm, she didn’t say,” Humphrey replied, his gaze drifting from Catherine back to the sea.

She should leave him to his thoughts, respect his privacy, but Catherine couldn’t do that. Not when she might be able to help.

She took a seat opposite him, her movement enough this time to bring his attention back to her.

“Is anything wrong?” she asked.

“Why do you ask?”

“You do not seem, as you say, yourself.”

Humphrey gave the same sad smile in response. “It’s nothing.”

“In my experience ‘nothing’ doesn’t tend to mean people sitting in a bar by themselves drinking,” Catherine replied gently.

Humphrey shifted slightly under her gaze, before leaning forward towards her across the table. 

“I think Florence and I are fighting,” he said quietly.

“You think you’re fighting?” Catherine clarified. “You don’t know?”

“Well, she says we aren’t, but she’s doing that being really quiet thing that women do when they’re really mad with you, but don’t want to say.” He shifted in his seat becoming animated as he continued, “I mean, if she told me what was upsetting maybe I could say sorry, or sort out the problem, but if she won’t tell me…”

He faded off as he slumped back into his chair, folding his arms defensively across himself. Catherine considered her words carefully before starting with the tentative, “I don’t think you’re fighting.”

Humphrey raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her as she continued. “But she does sound upset about something, maybe something you did without realising it, which is why she doesn’t feel she can say anything.”

Humphrey was suddenly animated again as he leant forward. “But she must know she can talk to me about anything.”

“You know it isn’t easy to talk to someone when you’re upset, especially if you know logically they haven’t done something deliberately,” Catherine replied firmly. She watched the frustration build on Humphrey’s face. “Perhaps I can help you work out what it was?”

Humphrey looked at her uncertainly. “I am no detective,” she said with a smile, “but I am a good student of human behaviour.”

Humphrey smiled, this time a smile of genuine amusement at her comment.

“So, let’s see, when did you first notice a change in Florence’s behaviour?”

“At the station house yesterday. I came back from lunch and within minutes it just seemed to have changed.”

“That doesn’t sound likely,” Catherine replied. “What did you say to her when you got there?”

“Not much really…that I’d really liked the new sandwich place that Dwayne recommended down by the harbour, and that when I was down there I had found a really good deal on some sailing lessons.”

Catherine sat a little straighter, and stifled a slight sigh at the obviousness of the cause of Florence’s upset.

“I thought Florence was going to teach you to sail?” she asked gently.

“Well, yes…but she had been putting it off so I was worried that maybe she had changed her mind. Or that perhaps she was worried about taking me out with my disobedient legs and arms.” Humphrey flailed around in illustration, nearly taking his drink out in the process. He settled himself, putting the drink carefully to one side of him. “So when Katrina approached me in the harbour about some lessons, it seemed a good idea.”

“Katrina…long blonde hair, curvaceous…” Catherine clarified.

“Yes, that’s right,” Humphrey replied, frowning at her reaction. “You know Dwayne kind of raised his eyebrows when I told him too.”

“Katrina has a certain reputation of being very…friendly with her students,” Catherine explained simply.

Humphrey quite clearly understood what she meant, but looked completely confused.

“Humphrey, Florence promised she would teach you to sail,” Catherine said softly. “Not only do you ignore that promise, you book lessons with another woman.”

“I was trying to help!”

“I don’t think that is how she sees it,” Catherine said calmly. “She probably feels rejected by you in favour of another woman.”

“So if I had booked lessons with a man none of this would have happened?” Humphrey asked.

“Perhaps not as intensely.”

Humphrey sat back in his chair, shaking his head. “But I didn’t mean to hurt her. And as for Katrina’s reputation…” He shifted. “She must know Katrina isn’t my type.” He shifted slightly again. “Assuming she would be worried about that sort of thing.”

Catherine considered him in interest, as he shifted in slight embarrassment. She revised her opinion of his awareness about his feelings towards Florence. And hers towards him. He was quite clearly at the stage of not believing what his instincts was telling him, dismissing his interpretation that she might be feeling the same as he did about her. She focussed again as Humphrey spoke again.

“Not that she would have much data to go on,” he said with a slight laugh. “Not exactly cut a swathe in the dating scene since my divorce. But then I just wanted to move on, make sure I had healed properly rather than transfer my feelings unfairly to another woman again.”

He moved once more, embarrassment obvious at his veiled reference to her daughter, for whom his feelings had been obvious to Catherine. She was incredibly fond of Humphrey but was quite clear that her daughter was not the one for him, and remained thankful that Camille had not given in to the loneliness after losing Richard to act on any attraction she had felt for the Inspector. They would have only frustrated and possibly hurt each other.

Catherine smiled gently at Humphrey. “I think it is best to not assume what a woman would worry about. Katrina’s intentions might have worried her for many reasons,” Catherine explained. “The best thing you can do is apologise for upsetting her, and give her a chance to talk it through.”

“How can I when she isn’t speaking to me?” Humphrey demanded, embarrassment replaced by frustration again.

Catherine smiled, catching sight of movement at the edge of the veranda area. “Oh I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” She stood up to greet the new arrival. “Good evening, Florence.”

“Hey, Catherine,” Florence replied, her smile nervous. “Sir.”

Humphrey turned to look at her. “Sir? I thought the veranda was a rank free zone?”

Catherine knew he was trying to tease Florence, but there was an anxious edge to his voice.

Florence dipped her head. “After my behaviour the last day or so, I didn’t know…formality seemed appropriate.”

“Your behaviour? I think it’s me who should apologise,” Humphrey replied. He glanced at Catherine. “I was the one who upset you.”

“‘Phrey…” Florence started in a denial. 

Humphrey beat her to it, the warmth in her utterance of her name for him giving him confidence. “Can we just talk about it?” he asked.

Catherine moved to another table as Florence took her seat opposite Humphrey. As she worked to clear it, she smiled at Humphrey’s direct question to Florence, “Is this about the sailing lessons?” Catherine glanced across her shoulder, Florence’s eyes meeting hers, a small smile on the other woman’s face as she realised who had helped Humphrey on his way to understanding.

Catherine moved on to another table, careful to give the two officers some privacy. She circulated, chatting to customers, collecting the occasional bottle or glass, but continuing to keep a discrete eye on her friends. There was gesticulating from both of them at times, but no raised voices, just the animation of emotion. 

She moved around the veranda again, this time catching the exasperation in Florence’s tone as she said firmly, “‘Phrey, I will always tell you if I don’t want to do something. You don’t have to think for me. Trust me.”

“I do!” Humphrey insisted. “I’m just not used to someone who…well…gets me and accepts me. So I’m always trying to make up for the flailing and faffing and everything.”

Catherine watched as Florence’s expression softened, the love obvious on her face, as she leant forward and placed her hand on Humphrey’s. “Well, you’re going to have to get used to it. Because I like you, Humphrey Goodman, flailing, forgetfulness and frustrating tangential thinking included.”

Humphrey laughed at her list which made Florence’s face light up. He placed his other hand on top of their joined ones and said firmly, “I truly only wanted you to teach me. I was just trying…”

“…to help,” Florence finished for him. “But we are clear that you do that by asking me if I need you to do something first?”

“Absolutely,” Humphrey replied. He smiled at her. “I will cancel the lessons tomorrow.”

Catherine couldn’t stop the smile at the pleased look on Florence’s face. “Good. I don’t want you to be taught any bad habits before I take you out.”

If it was possible Humphrey’s smile widened which Catherine took as a sign that it was okay to go over.

“Everything okay over here?” she asked.

“Fine…thank you,” Florence replied, the emphasis on the last two words telling Catherine the younger woman meant more than a polite response.

“Beers?” Catherine asked.

“Yes, please,” Florence replied.

“Chess set?” she asked.

Humphrey glanced at Florence before replying, “Not this evening. I think we just want to talk.”

Catherine smiled at Humphrey. “Excellent decision,” she replied softly before walking off to fetch their order.


	3. J.P.

“J.P., stay where you are!”

Officer J.P. Cooper looked uncertainly between his DI and DS. He really didn’t want to be in the station whilst this row blazed between them, but an order from his DI was an order from his DI. So instead he dropped his gaze and tried to pretend that this sort of fight was perfectly normal. Which it most definitely wasn’t.

Dwayne said the previous DI and DS fought all the time as a method of communication, but that wasn’t this Chief and Sarge. They liked each other, spoke to each other easily and if ever they got angry…well normally it passed quick enough. 

This was different. This was personal, and had been rumbling for a few days, like the storm that had been threatening the island. He would like to dismiss this argument as a meteorological influenced aberration but it was quite clearly not. This was about them, even he could see that, born of an awkwardness that feelings were running deeper than they were willing to admit or ready to deal with.

“I thought we agreed you would talk to me before deciding what help I needed?” Florence demanded.

“You did ask me for help,” Humphrey responded. “You asked me to keep that man away from you, and I did. I walked you home, and I kept him out of this station. You said that was what you wanted.”

“I didn’t ask you to investigate him!” Florence exploded again.

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t follow my cop instincts when I think something is wrong?” Humphrey replied angrily. “That I should ignore the fact I thought something illegal was about to happen, that I thought you could be in danger?”

“He wouldn’t hurt me,” Florence insisted.

“Didn’t say he would,” Humphrey replied. “But he is a threat, trust me.”

“Fine…you’re convinced he’s a threat…show me the evidence.”

J.P. risked glancing up, sensing he was about to be pulled back into the discussion. He looked between his two superior officers as they glared at each other, wondering if he should try again to intervene before deciding that was still a very bad idea.

“J.P., tell Sargent Cassell what you found in Mr Francis’ financials,” the Chief instructed.

J.P. hesitated slightly before stepping back into the fray. “Dermot Francis is in significant debt. He has overdrafts and credit cards maxed out. As far as I can tell he has no current means of income.”

The Sarge glanced at him, concern breaking through her anger. “He never used to be that bad with money,” she commented.

“But you did say he had a very impulsive nature,” the Chief risked. “The sort of personality that could be at risk of addiction.”

The Sarge shook her head. “He would never be a user.”

“Not saying he would be, but what about gambling?”

This time the Sarge hesitated, and J.P. found himself willing her to listen. He risked further evidence to support the Chief’s theory. “Dwayne says he has heard of some big moves by one of the guys running one of the gambling rings to call in all debts so they can move on. What if this old friend of yours is involved?”

J.P. winced slightly as his use of ‘old friend’ in his last statement. This Dermot Francis was quite clearly more than that to the Sarge, something that J.P. was sure wasn’t helping the current situation.

J.P. watched as the Chief moved in closer to the DS.

“A man in debt and under threat may be coerced to do things he would ordinarily never do, including abusing the trust of someone he once loved,” the Chief said softly.

The Sarge snorted slightly as she replied, “Oh, he’s abused my trust before, don’t worry.”

The Chief inclined his head in slight acknowledgement. “Even so…”

“Even so, what?” Sarge demanded. “If he is in as much trouble as you think, then I can’t help that much. A police officer’s income is not going to stretch to cover that sort of debt.”

“But a police officer has more use than just as a source of income,” the DI continued, his voice still soft as he ventured, “Like access to people, places…evidence…” He trailed off as the Sarge’s eyes widened in understanding.

“He wouldn’t,” she insisted again, though this time her voice was less certain.

“It can’t be a coincidence that he has arrived trying to make contact just as those cases are coming up,” the Chief replied carefully. 

For some reason the Sarge turned her gaze on J.P. who shifted before shrugging in agreement with the DI’s deduction. She turned her gaze back on the Chief, her face uncertain, her emotions obvious in her tone as she started. “’Phrey…”

“I’m not saying he’s a bad man,” the DI said carefully, his tone more certain at her response to him. “You wouldn’t have lo…you wouldn’t have liked him if he was.”

J.P noted the stumble in the Chief’s sentence and felt a surge of sympathy for the older man’s balancing act in this situation.

“Let me pull him in,” the Chief said. “Let’s find out what’s going on, and if need be protect him.” He paused. “You don’t have to be involved if you don’t want to be.”

The Sarge considered the DI, her eyes soft on him, before a more familiar determination washed across her. “No, sir, it’s fine. If you’re right then I should be by your side, and he will probably talk to me more anyway. If you’re wrong, then it’s time I faced him regardless. His shadow has held me back too many times in the past. I don’t want that to happen again.”

For a moment the discomfort J.P. had been feeling returned as it became clear that something unspoken was passing between them. But it passed quickly as the DI straightened and turned to J.P. ordering, “Call Dwayne and go pick Mr Francis up. Let’s stop this before anyone gets hurt.”

J.P. nodded in acknowledgement, turning to pick up his cap and phone. He glanced back as he headed out of the station, part of him wishing he hadn’t at the intimate moment he caught, a brush of fingers as the Sarge and Chief moved to their respective desks. But part of him was happy to have seen it. That was normal. That was his DI and DS. Partners in crime, and, J.P. suspected, very soon partners in life as well.

He headed out determined to do this small part to help them towards that happiness. It was the least he could do.


	4. Officer Dwayne Myers

Dwayne leant against the jeep’s bonnet, and took some deep breaths to calm himself down.

This couldn’t be happening. Not again.

To have lost two Chiefs to violence was bad enough, but a third? He didn’t think he could deal with it again. Especially not this kind, caring, if somewhat bemusing, Chief. Someone he truly considered a friend.

Mind you, his reaction would be nothing compared to the Sarge’s if the Chief didn’t pull through. And the thought of her dealing with that…well, that was even worse than the thought of dealing with it himself.

He glanced up at the man that had pulled the trigger, safely incarcerated in the back of the jeep. He looked shaken, as if he couldn’t quite believe he had done it. Neither could Dwayne. This man may already be a murderer, but it had been a quiet one with poisons and other clever twists. To pull a gun on the arresting police team showed a desperation and ruthlessness none of them had anticipated.

They should have done.

They might have foregone the usual show and tell arrests that they did automatically for these big cases. The culprit usually confessed or ran, they never had to deal with someone fighting back.

They hadn’t expected him to fight back.

Dwayne lifted his cap off and wiped a hand across his forehead to ease the stickiness. Maybe he was just getting too old for this whole thing. Not that the man inside the jeep had had much of a chance once he had took off after him, what with adrenaline, shock and some serious motivation on a professional and personal level. But sometimes Dwayne just felt very tired about the whole world. At least until he got to the bar and had a few drinks and a dance. But right now…maybe it was time to consider doing something else.

It was the sound of alarm from J.P. that brought Dwayne’s attention back to his surroundings. The younger officer had been compiling evidence at the back of the jeep. Dwayne immediately glanced in the vehicle to reassure himself that the prisoner was still there. He was but looking like he would climb through to the passenger seat if he got the chance. Dwayne’s eyes followed the man’s gaze to the back of the jeep where the door was open and the Sarge was looking in.

Dwayne’s stomach tightened into a knot. The DS had a look of pure fury on her face, a look that told Dwayne she was very close to crossing a line she would never be able to turn back from.

Dwayne kept his movements casual as he walked to join her at the back of the vehicle.

“Sarge?”

“Yes, Dwayne?” she responded, her eyes not leaving the man inside the jeep. Dwayne glanced down and saw the gun that had been used, evidence bag and all, in her hand. He exchanged a look with J.P. who returned the look with a question of ‘What do we do?’

Dwayne turned his attention back to the woman in front of him. “How’s the Chief?”

“They’ve taken him inside to operate.”

Dwayne’s insides tightened again. “But this is a private hospital.”

“They said he couldn’t wait for the ambulance,” Florence replied, her voice hardening, and, Dwayne couldn’t help noticing, her hand tightening around the gun. It was also hard to not notice the spatters of blood on her clothes from the Chief’s wounds, or the stains on her hands.

He should have been quicker. He should have stopped this from happening.

Dwayne took a slow breath in. There was nothing he could do for the Chief now. Only the medical teams could help him. He could help the Sarge though, stop her crossing that line that she was so precariously close to.

He walked slowly up to his fellow officer, considering his words carefully based on what he knew of the Sarge, and what he guessed of her feelings for the DI. He had seen the way they had started openly looking at each other, even as they seemed to try and keep their relationship as professionals and friends intact. The look on the Sarge’s face right now…that was a woman who had just seen the man she loved shot protecting her, not an officer of the law. He needed to get her back to being the officer, not the woman. 

“So, what do you think the Chief would want us to do?” he asked.

He knew the DS knew exactly what needed to be done, would have no problem leading the team in the Chief’s absence. But he also knew she needed to be reminded of the higher road in this situation, never mind the law, the road she knew the Chief would take.

She didn’t reply at first, her hand tightening around the gun again. For a moment Dwayne wondered if he would have to physically remove the weapon from her grasp before she took an audible breath in, turning to hand the gun to J.P..

Dwayne fought hard to keep any relieved reaction off his face as she turned back to face him.

“Dwayne, you and I will take the prisoner to the station.” She glanced across to the younger officer. “J.P., finish up here and then join us.”

“Yes, Sarge,” J.P. replied, relief obvious in his voice.

She must have noticed his reaction as she looked to Dwayne with a slight flash of guilt. Dwayne kept his face steady. With a look that was more familiar, she continued, “I’m going to phone the Commissioner to get him up to speed, and ask him to join us at the station, just in case.”

She didn’t say what the Commissioner might help with, but Dwayne understood the value of a senior officer presence at times like this.

“Right you are, Sarge,” he said calmly. As she moved away to make the call, he turned to close the jeep’s door. His eyes met those of the prisoner and this time his control failed him. 

“You better hope the Chief makes it,” Dwayne said, with the dark menace he was capable of when pushed. “Because next time I might not get between the two of you. Just so you know.”

The man tried to look defiant, but failed completely. Satisfied, Dwayne slammed the door shut and returned to his post.


	5. Martin Goodman

Martin Goodman pushed his plate away having managed his first full meal since news of his son’s shooting had reached them. What with trying to keep his wife calm, deal with the practicalities and his own anxiety about what they would find on landing at the island, food had had little relevance these last few days. Now that they knew that Humphrey was out of the woods he could finally relax, enjoy his food and, he would be forced to admit, the very passable wine that Catherine served.

He looked up from sipping his wine to find his son’s DS approaching the table. The young woman looked tired, Martin thought, the spark that had so impressed him the first time they had met sadly lacking. She managed a small smile as she approached his table.

“Good evening, Mr Goodman,” she said, the smile extending in forced politeness.

“Good evening, Ms Cassell,” Martin replied politely, alert to the air of anxiety around the woman in front of him. “Would you care to join me?”

She nodded, taking a seat opposite him, her hands schooled in front of her. 

“Mrs Goodman is not with you this evening?” she asked, only a slight fidget giving away her nervousness.

“No,” Martin replied. “What with the strain of the last few days and jetlag she has already returned to the hotel to get some sleep.” He smiled in an attempt to hide his concern. “Hopefully she will feel like eating tomorrow.”

“I’m sure she will,” Florence replied. “The news today from the hospital…”

“Was very reassuring,” Martin confirmed. 

“Yes,” Florence agreed, before fidgeting again.

They sat in silence for a moment before Martin decided to find out what was causing the Sergeant to be so unlike the woman he had met.

“Was there something you wanted to talk about?” Martin asked. 

She quite clearly didn’t want to say whatever it was that was on her mind, but, Martin surmised, felt she had to. So he waited until she felt able to say her piece, watching as she pulled herself more upright before she started.

“I’m the reason your son is in hospital,” she stated flatly. “He was shot because of me.”

Martin returned his wine glass to the table. Now things about the young woman made more sense. She had kept her eyes averted, and continued to fidget as she waited for his response.

“I’m sorry,” she managed.

Martin considered his words carefully. “Humphrey was shot in the line of duty. There is nothing to apologise for.”

“He was shot protecting me,” Florence replied, distress obvious in her tone.

Martin suddenly wished his wife was with him. She would know how to reassure the young woman properly. All he had to call on was his skills as a QC.

He considered the drawn face of the exhausted woman in front of him.

It would have to be enough.

“My understanding is that no-one predicted the culprit would do what he did,” Martin said slowly. “I also understand from the reports that his shots did not seem aimed at anyone in particular, more as a distraction to escape.”

“Mr Goodman…”

Martin lifted his hand up to stop the interruption. “He has no history of using firearms. Outside of the investigation which was leading to his arrest he has had no contact with anyone from the police, including yourself. There was no reason for him to particularly target you out of the police presence. You are not to blame.”

Martin could see she understood the logic of his statements, but somehow she couldn’t let go of the guilt she was feeling.

“Ms Cassell…Florence…I would not say all that if I did not believe it to be the case. And I am sure when Humphrey is able to, he will tell you exactly the same as I have.”

At the mention of his son’s name her face softened, and he saw the mixture of hope and fear at his last statement that it would be the case.

“Florence, you are very important to my son,” Martin said gently. “Not that he ever would say anything to me about such things.” He smiled at the uncertain smile on Florence’s face. “But he does mention you often in his emails to his mother, and your value to him is beyond what we have seen for anyone else for quite some time.”

She shifted slightly at his words, embarrassment mixing with the uncertainty on her face, but Martin ploughed on.

“You of all people know that is has taken me some time to appreciate his career choice, and his skills. But I have always known I raised a good man, someone who would do whatever he had to protect someone he cared about.” He paused as he gathered his thoughts. “Humphrey cares about you. I know he would do anything to protect you, and he would not change his actions in the heat of that attack at all. So please don’t feel guilty. He would not expect you to, and neither do I.”

She lifted her eyes to meet his, some of the anguish fading from them at his words.

“Mr Goodman…”

“Martin, please.”

She nodded her head slightly in acknowledgement. “Martin, I would do anything to be in his place.”

“I know,” Martin replied softly. “But it is what it is. He needs you to put that feeling behind you now. He will need you during his recovery. Especially once his mother has returned to the UK.” He raised a slight eyebrow. “Or possibly more whilst she is here.”

His comment provoked a welcome laugh from Florence, her face regaining some of the animation he knew her for.

“Excellent point,” she agreed, her smile warmer now.

“So, in that spirit, and in your DI’s absence, I am ordering you to get some rest whilst you can,” Martin said, picking his wine glass up, and settling back in his seat.

Florence’s smile spread at his comment. “Well, I would never disobey a direct order.” She pushed herself away from the table. “Have a good evening…and Martin, thank you.”

Martin nodded his own acknowledgement and watched as she walked away, this time her stride more purposeful, the woman he knew, and the woman he was quite certain his son loved, back in sight once more.


	6. Dr Rebecca Streeter

Dr Rebecca Streeter looked up from filling in the notes sheet on the file at the sound of footsteps coming up the corridor. The now familiar sight of DS Cassell returning to the hospital late of an evening greeted her. Putting the file to one side she stood up to meet her.

“Good evening, Detective Sergeant,” Rebecca said, stepping forward.

“Hello, Doctor,” the other woman smiled in greeting. “How is he this evening?”

Rebecca smiled. “He is progressing as expected. No concerns.”

She watched as a slight tension melted from the DS’s frame. “That’s good to hear.”

Rebecca smiled again as she commented, “You also seem to be progressing. You’ve managed to get some sleep now?”

The younger woman smiled at her, some of the gauntness that had started to worry the doctor gone from her face. “Yes, much better now, thank you,” Cassell replied, before turning a slightly inquisitive look on her. “And yourself?”

Rebecca tried to not flinch at the question, and instead busied herself tucking strands of her long blonde hair behind her ears.

“I try to take each night as it comes,” Rebecca managed.

The officer nodded in understanding and seemed to be moving on down the corridor only to turn back.

“Doctor…” Cassell started uncertainly. “I know the Commissioner has formally spoken to you about the care you’re providing DI Goodman.”

“I won’t hear of anyone paying,” Rebecca interjected. “I’m glad to help.”

Cassell shifted in front of her. “I understand, but I have just realised that I haven’t yet said thank you,” she said quietly. “You saved his life. You have no idea what that means to me.”

Rebecca eyed the other woman. She had a very good idea what it meant to her, suspected the true nature of the officer’s feelings for her DI, and sadly could relate to that fear of loss all too easily.

“DS Cassell…”

“Florence, please.”

Rebecca hesitated but then said as calmly as she could, “Florence, your DI managed to work out who took my husband from me, something I never thought could be done. I would never have turned someone away with his injuries, least of all the man who managed that.” She took a breath to manage her emotions. “I will always be grateful.”

Florence nodded in understanding. “As will I.” With a smile Cassell started back up the corridor, leaving Rebecca to her paperwork and her thoughts once more.

**  
It was an hour or so later that Rebecca found herself outside DI Goodman’s room, writing up notes from one of the few remaining private patients. The hospital business manager reassured her that patients would start to rebook soon, now that word of the apprehension of her husband’s killer had spread. Strangely she wasn’t certain if that was what she wanted. Perhaps she could develop this place as a community hospital now, something more in line with what she believed in, and what her husband had always promised would be the use for their profits. It might keep her busy enough to keep the grief and demons at bay.

She closed the file, before starting on the second, planning to go into the DI’s room in a moment, her last visit of the evening. The door was ajar, and she could suddenly hear snippets of conversation floating her way.

“What did you say?”

Cassell sounded amused, and there was a slight stuttering from DI Goodman.

“I’m sorry…did I just say that out loud?” he managed. 

Rebecca glanced up, catching sight of Cassell taking a seat on the side of the bed.

“Yes, you did,” Florence replied, amusement obvious. “Something about admiring the view?”

Goodman looked slightly taken aback, but there was a definite hint of mischief as well as he managed, “Can I remind you that I am on very strong painkillers?”

“Uh, huh,” Cassell replied, one hand entwining with one of his, the other reaching up and brushing his hair away from his forehead. Their conversation stilled, it seemed continuing through their gazes, until Goodman softly said, “I love you.”

Even from her position outside the room Rebecca heard the intake of breath from Cassell at his words. 

“That isn’t the painkillers talking, by the way,” Goodman continued. When he didn’t get a reply, he stuttered on, “Though it can be, if you want.”

Rebecca glanced up again, feeling like she should turn away from such an intimate moment, but fearing if she made a noise in the process she would destroy the magic weaving its spell in the room.

Cassell shook her head. “I don’t want it to be the painkillers, Phrey,” she replied, her smile spreading at the relief on Goodman’s face. “I think we have waited long enough to talk about what we are feeling. I just didn’t know if you were ready after everything that’s happened. Didn’t know if I was.” She paused before she continued, with emotion in her voice, “I thought I had lost you.”

“Hey, it’ll take more than a few bullets to get rid of me,” Goodman replied softly, his hand coming up to caress her cheek, Cassell leaning into the touch. “I’m sorry it’s taken bullets to get me to be brave enough to say what I was feeling.”

Cassell nodded in understanding before she leant forward and placed her lips on his. It was the tenderest kiss Rebecca had ever witnessed, made even more emotive by the fact that Goodman had managed to lightly wrap one arm around her waist, a movement she knew would have been difficult for him with his injuries. She could hear the emotion as the kiss ended and Goodman said, “We’ll sort it all out, the job and everything.”

Cassell nodded, but no words coming.

“Assuming you want to sort it?” Goodman asked, uncertainty in his tone at her lack of words.

“Humphrey Goodman, what have we said about you trying to think for me?” Cassell demanded, her tone light though. 

“That you will always tell me if you don’t want to do something,” Goodman recited, with a smile.

“So, if the kiss wasn’t enough to tell you that I wanted this, then that rule should,” Cassell said, the tone still light, but fluttering with emotion. Her hands went up to caress his face again, her voice soft as she said, “I love you too. And no painkillers in sight.”

Goodman laughed slightly at the last comment, before pulling slightly on her waist to get her to return to the kiss, their smiles obvious in the action.

Rebecca turned away and started her way from the room, the sight simultaneously making her very happy and also triggering the sharpest pain at the loss of the man she loved so much. But at least she had been able to make sure these two people, who had fought so hard to get justice for her husband , had the chance to have their time together. And for that she would always be thankful.


	7. Camille Bordey

Camille took a deep breath in as an unexpected rush of emotion hit her. She wouldn’t have expected the sight of this old shack on the beach to have caught her so unawares, but, as she approached it, she felt the ghosts of her past wash across her, the losses and the choices. She was amazed that this little home had come to represent so much.

She paused at the corner to the veranda, wondering if she should have called ahead, when she heard voices drift back to her. She smiled at the conversation, and had to hold an outright laugh in as she listened to the end of what had obviously been a very competitive chess match.

“Checkmate!”

Camille glanced around the corner and took in the sight of a triumphant Florence, and an uncertain Humphrey.

“Now, hang on…I just need to check…” he said, before he sat back in defeat. “Okay, okay…can I remind you…”

“That you’re on very strong painkillers,” Florence finished for him, a grin on her face as she got up and walked around to him. “You won’t be able to use that excuse soon.”

“Not an excuse, merely an explanation,” Humphrey insisted.

“Uh huh,” Florence replied, her smile spreading as Humphrey tugged on her to sit on his lap. She moved gently, reminding Camille in her entertainment at the scene of what Humphrey was recovering from.

“You could just consider my recent success a result of having an excellent teacher,” Florence commented, her hand coming up to caress Humphrey’s cheek.

“Well, yes, there is that as well,” Humphrey agreed, their gazes meeting before their lips found each other in a long, tender kiss. Camille smiled. It looked so right for them to be together, and they were quite clearly very much in love. Her mother, as often was the case, had called it completely right.

She paused, wondering again if she should have called, before realising Florence had lifted her gaze and caught sight of her.

“Camille!” she exclaimed.

Camille waved a greeting. “I should have probably called…” she started as Florence stood to greet her but paused as Florence waited to offer an arm to Humphrey so he could stand easily. Camille’s stomach contracted. She hated to think of how close she had come to returning for a funeral and not the loving scene she had just witnessed.

“Camille, you’re always welcome here, you know that,” Humphrey replied, that familiar awkwardness she remembered so fondly obvious. She flashed him a smile in response before opening her arms to accept the hug offered from Florence. She turned to Humphrey, hesitated for a moment, and then moved to hug him, careful to mirror the gentle moves she had seen Florence use. 

Stepping back to take him in she commented lightly, “I don’t know, I leave you alone for five minutes and you get all heroic on us.”

Humphrey glanced at Florence before he replied. “I don’t know about that. Instinct rather than heroism, I assure you.”

Yes, Camille thought. She would not want to be the person to threaten Florence and provoke the gentle man in front of her. He may have called it instinct, but she recognised an act of love when she saw it.

“Would you like a drink?” Florence offered.

“That would be great,” Camille replied, smiling at the implied domesticity of Florence offering at Humphrey’s home.

“I’ll get them,” Humphrey said, cutting off Florence’s objection with, “I am meant to keep moving.”

Florence held her hands up in defeat, stepping back to let Humphrey head into the shack.

Camille grinned. “Bad patient?” she asked.

“Actually not too bad,” Florence replied with her own grin, “But maybe getting a little impatient.”

“Understandable,” Camille replied, taking a seat at the table, leaning back as she turned her attention to the other woman. Her smile turned mischievous as she said, “I know I asked you to take care of Humphrey when I left, but this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

Florence laughed. “Wasn’t exactly what I expected either.”

Camille shook her head. “Maybe so, but I’m not surprised. You were fascinated by him from the moment go.”

“I wasn’t!”

Camille raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“Okay,” Florence conceded. “Maybe I did find him intriguing, in a very English way.” Her smile spread, “But I didn’t expect to discover I have such a thing for smart. And sweet. And funny.”

“Sounds like it was meant to be,” Camille said with a smile.

Florence shrugged slightly. “If it was it certainly hasn’t felt like that at times,” she confessed, standing as she saw Humphrey return to the veranda, moving slowly back to them.

“Two beers and a juice,” Humphrey declared, placing them on the table before taking Florence’s arm to help himself lower down to the chair nearest to him.

The group of friends chinked bottles and settled back into their chairs.

“So, Camille, what brings you back home?” Humphrey asked.

“You mean apart from wanting to make sure you were truly on the mend?” Camille responded lightly.

Humphrey raised a slight eyebrow. “I don’t think my injuries warranted a trip from a major operation in Paris.”

Camille hesitated. “Let’s just say circumstances presented a small opportunity to come home for a while.”

Camille shifted under Humphrey’s gaze, almost able to hear his mind working on what had happened to allow her to return. 

“How long are you able to stay?” Florence asked.

“A couple of weeks,” Camille replied, grateful for the distraction. “You and I must go out and catch up properly about everything.” She purposefully let her gaze drift to Humphrey, smiling at the blush on his cheek and the slight shift in his seat.

Florence laughed. “That would be great. I have so much to tell you.” She joined Camille in her teasing gaze of Humphrey.

“Okay…thank you…” Humphrey replied, shifting in his seat again. “If you two have both finished entertaining yourselves.”

Camille glanced at Florence. “For the moment.”

Florence was prevented from responding by her phone ringing. She stepped away to answer it, leaving Humphrey and Camille to look out over the ocean.

“Harry’s still around, by the way” Humphrey said. “He’s taken to hiding in the roof rafters after he and my mother had one too many run-ins recently.”

“Well, I suppose he is an acquired taste,” Camille laughed, the image of Humphrey’s mother and the domestic lizard tickling her perhaps more than it should.

“Sorry, I’m going to have to go,” Florence said, returning back to the table. “That was Dwayne, there has been a suspicious death at a hotel.” She leant forward, a quick kiss on Humphrey’s lips. “I’ll come back later tonight.”

Humphrey shook his head. “I’ll be fine,” he insisted. “Go home after you finish and rest.”

Florence looked like she wanted to argue but instead nodded her agreement. She dropped a kiss on his forehead. “I’ll text to say I’m safe.”

Something flashed across Humphrey’s face and Camille realised that, despite the outward ease, the couple were still dealing with the trauma they had faced. 

Florence turned to Camille. “I’ll phone so we can book that dinner in.”

“That would be great,” Camille replied. “Whenever the case lets you.”

Florence grinned. “The joys of being a police officer, eh?”

“That it is,” Camille returned.

The silence that settled over Camille and Humphrey once Florence had left was more comfortable than Camille would have expected. They had parted at a weird point in their relationship and had never had a chance to clear the air from that time. Camille wondered if she should say something about it before deciding that they had both moved on; what purpose would it serve? Instead she settled back and enjoyed the quiet not expecting Humphrey to open with his next comment. 

“I died.”

Camille looked at Humphrey in surprise.

“On the operating table,” he clarified. “I was officially dead for thirty seven seconds.”

Camille felt a lurch inside, both at the information and the possible reason he might be telling her this. “How do…”

“I read my chart,” he admitted with a wry grin. “Probably not the best thing for someone to do. But, well, you know me. I need information, and no one was giving it to me, so I read my chart.”

Camille leant forward. “Does Florence know?”

Humphrey shrugged. “Possibly. But it’s not something that’s easy to bring up.” He fixed her with his gaze. “So, that’s what I’m not talking about. What about you?”

Camille pulled back, and turned her gaze firmly back out to sea.

“Camille,” he persisted. “You could have phoned, or Skyped me to check how I was, all far less risky than coming back during an operation.”

“I told you, a window of opportunity presented itself.” 

“Why?”

Camille suppressed an angry retort, suddenly remembering that, however much she cared for Humphrey, that he could press her buttons as well.

She looked back at him. 

“Come on, Camille, what happened?”

Camille took in the earnest, concerned face of her friend and suddenly felt very tired, the need to keep so much secret unexpectedly weighing heavy. Sharing a small amount with someone who would understand, maybe she had come all this way for more than reassurance about a possible loss. 

Composing herself she said, “Let’s just say Florence and I have more in common than working with you.” She saw Humphrey’s mind whirr, the puzzle on his face. She took a deep breath. “A little time before Florence paced a waiting room for news on the man she loved, I did the same. But I didn’t have the happy ending.”

Lightbulbs of understanding went off in Humphrey’s eyes. He reached out and placed his hand on hers. “Oh, Camille, I am so sorry.”

She shook her head. “His death left a natural space for me to excuse myself, and when I heard what happened to you, I decided to make use of it. To check on you, see Maman. Reassure myself that in some places things work and carry on.”

She turned her gaze back out to sea so she could try and control the sharp stab of pain inside. Turning back she met Humphrey’s sympathetic gaze. And for a moment he isn’t there, but instead another Inspector, another man she loved who was taken from her. Maybe coming back here hadn’t been a good idea after all.

She took another ragged breath in.

“Is there anything I can do?” Humphrey asked.

Camille shook her head initially, wondering again what she had been looking for by coming back, before a thought hit her.

“Tell me about Florence.”

“Florence?” Humphrey asked, looking slightly confused.

“Yes, Florence,” Camille replied. “Tell me about falling in love, tell me about being together…tell me about being normal despite everything…”

Humphrey considered her, his eyes shrewd in their assessment of what was going on, before they widened again in apparent innocence. “Well, I think it started with sandwiches.”

Camille slightly choked on her sip of beer. “Sandwiches?”

“Or possibly sailing lessons.”

“Sailing lessons?” Camille echoed again.

“Hmm,” Humphrey replied, and Camille wasn’t certain if he was telling the truth or teasing her slightly.

“It’s all rather hard to be certain about.”

Camille considered him. “What are you certain about?”

Humphrey paused, all signs of possible teasing disappearing. “That I have never loved another like I love her.”

Camille took a shaky breath in at the emotion behind the words, irrational anger and jealousy for a moment merging in her at her loss when others got to live and love. But then she took in again the honest emotion on Humphrey’s face and she made a determined decision to embrace the joy she felt for her friend to be feeling that way. Life went on, she knew that. Wasn’t that why she really had come back?

She took another sip of beer and settled back in her seat. 

“Tell me about those sandwiches…”


	8. Commissioner Selwyn Patterson Part 2

“Good afternoon, team.”

The Commissioner kept his smile polite as the officers of the Saint-Marie police station startled at his entrance.

“Sir… I was expecting to meet with you at your office,” Goodman managed as he came out from behind his desk.

“I thought it was only fair to come and see you here, Inspector,” the Commissioner said evenly. “Make sure you’re not overdoing it on light duties.”

“Um… yes,” Goodman responded. “Very kind of you sir, but I was more than happy to come to you.”

Patterson raised his hand in a gentle dismissal of the discussion, a slight sigh of defeat from Goodman the only response.

“J.P., Dwayne, could you give us a moment,” the Inspector asked, the uniformed officers quick to escape. He hesitated before he turned around to his Sergeant. “Florence…”

Cassell moved herself purposefully to his side. For a moment Goodman looked like he wanted to argue before conceding to her action with a slight nod of his head. Another breath and from his jacket pocket Goodman produced an envelope. He proffered it at the Commissioner.

“I want you to know that I will be eternally grateful for the opportunity you gave me here,” Goodman said, his voice showing hints of emotion. “But I need to hand in my resignation.”

Patterson glanced between the two officers. Cassell kept her head low, obviously unhappy with what was happening, but not able to argue with the decision Goodman had made any more.

He turned his attention back to Goodman and purposefully folded his arms behind his back. “I’m sorry, Inspector. But I cannot accept it.”

Surprise registered on the other man’s face, before the slightest hint of panic. “But, sir…” he started, before forcing himself to calm. “Sir, I know you know why I am doing this,” Goodman continued in a soft but insistent voice. “I can’t…”

‘Not be with her’ Patterson finished for him in his head. The Commissioner raised his hand again to stop further argument. “I cannot accept your resignation, Inspector, as I need the Sergeant for another assignment.” He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. “I can’t lose both of my senior officers in one go, can I?”

“What? No, of course, not,” Goodman managed, obviously caught out by the turn of events. Then a moment of panic. “What assignment?”

“There is an inter-island task force which brings together local law enforcement across the region. Its role is mostly strategic planning, working across agencies and so on. The chair rotates around the islands and it has just reached Saint-Marie. Normally the most senior police officer supports the Commissioner to manage the work, but I believe it is a role that requires more local knowledge than you have, Inspector.” He turned purposefully towards Cassell. “Don’t you agree, Sergeant?”

Cassell’s expression was knowing, the gratitude obvious in her smile as she replied, “Absolutely, sir.”

Patterson nodded in approval. “Would you like to return to uniform for a short period and take on this work then?”

“Definitely,” Cassell replied quickly.

“Good,” he replied. “The assignment usually lasts between 12 and 18 months. Enough time for you to decide where your future lies, yes?”

“Of course, sir,” Cassell replied. 

“Hang on,” Goodman managed to interject as he looked between them. “Don’t you want time to think about it?”

“What’s there to think about?” Cassell returned. “This is a very prestigious opportunity which will be great for my career. You don’t have to resign because you won’t be my direct superior. Tell me a downside?”

Goodman looked like he was about to argue again before he sagged slightly. Possibly in defeat, but, the Commissioner suspected, more in relief.

“That’s settled then,” Patterson said firmly. “The work starts in three weeks. I’m sure I can leave you to manage things here at the station appropriately until then.”

“Yes, sir,” the two officers chorused, their faces a contrasting mixture of bright happiness and slight shock.

The Commissioner turned as if to go, before turning back. “There is one initial task I can give you before I go, Sergeant,” he said carefully as he reached into his inside pocket. “You can attend a social event on my behalf.” He handed over two tickets. “A black tie event I’m afraid.”

Cassell took the tickets off him, her face a polite mask, until she saw them. “The Saint-Marie Masquerade Ball…” Her face registered emotion, words of thanks pausing on her lips as she understood the true nature of the gift of tickets in her hands.

“Not really my thing,” Patterson said. “But I hear it’s quite…” He turned his gaze on Goodman. “…quite romantic.”

The Inspector still looked slightly shocked at the turn of events, but managed a smile and nod of acknowledgement at the Commissioner. 

With a last nod, the Commissioner put his hat on and walked out of the station. At the bottom of the steps he turned decisively and headed towards Catherine’s Bar. As he approached Catherine stepped away from the veranda and indicated the bar. Patterson pulled up a stool as she asked, “Have you sorted everything?”

“I have,” Patterson replied, savouring a long pull on the drink she had passed to him. “At least for the foreseeable future. After that… well, I think they will work it all out by then.”

“Good,” Catherine said, her smile broad. “I knew you would.”

The Commissioner considered all the favours he had called in to get the chair of the task force to Saint-Marie before its time. He shrugged. “It was nothing.”

Catherine considered him for a moment before she responded, “That I do not believe for a moment.”

Patterson shrugged again in reply.

You are good man, Selwyn Patterson,” she said softly.

“Maybe,” he replied with a smile. “But let’s not tell too many people that, eh?”

“Your secret is safe with me,” she confirmed with a smile before she left him to enjoy his drink, a problem solved and happiness preserved. 

A happiness he was certain was going to last.


End file.
